


Where's the Mountain Dew?

by Eirenne Saijima (ladypoetess)



Category: October Daye Series - Seanan McGuire
Genre: Blood, Fluff, Gaming, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 14:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13055907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladypoetess/pseuds/Eirenne%20Saijima
Summary: What DO you say when the immortal and terrible Sea Witch wants to play a game?





	Where's the Mountain Dew?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poppetawoppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppetawoppet/gifts).



“Toby?”

Quentin’s voice was muffled as he shouted from the kitchen, but since he didn’t sound panicked or injured, I didn’t bother to get up to see what he wanted, instead opting to shout back, “What do you want, Quentin?”

“We’re about to have—” The sound of pounding on the door drowned out the rest of Quentin’s words and jolted both me and May half off of our respective lounging spots in front of the television. “—guests.” Quentin finished his interrupted statement as he entered the living room to head for the door.

“Well, it’s not Tybalt or Raj, they never knock, let alone call ahead,” May pointed out, still glancing between me and the door.

“Quentin, who called? Do I need my knife before I open this door?” I wasn’t armed in my own home, which seems like a good idea right up until it doesn’t anymore. The last unexpected guest left all of us with nightmares and trauma that still hasn’t healed completely, though I thought I was improving when I started feeling okay with not wearing my knife in the house.

“Relax, Toby, it’s just—” Quentin’s words were cut off again by pounding on the door.

“Toby, open up, it’s me. I’m just knocking to be polite.”

I relaxed. I’d know that irascible voice anywhere. A few quick steps and a smirk from my squire, I reached the door and pulled it open. “Hi, Luidaeg.”

“Took you long enough.” The Luidaeg brushed past me and into the house, a regular canvas backpack slung over her shoulder, making her look more like a human teenager than ever. Between the ghosts of old acne scars and her usual coveralls and pigtails, anyone could be excused for mistaking this person for a perfectly ordinary human girl of 17 or so. But she wasn’t any of those things. She wasn’t ordinary, she wasn’t a human girl, and she was oh so much older than 17. This was the Sea Witch, the terror that Fae parents tell their children about to scare them into behaving, and that only the most foolish enter into a bargain with in any but the direst of the circumstances. And she was standing here, in my living room, toting a backpack and apparently  _ calling ahead _ to say she was going to visit.

“What’s going on, Luidaeg? Is there a problem or some other ‘heroes necessary here’ issue going on?”

The snort that greeted my words was actually enough to set me at ease, before she even spoke. “No, October, I just decided to spend some time with the parts of my family I’m still speaking to. Now order pizza and clear off that thing you call a kitchen table.”

I looked at May. I looked at Quentin. Almost in unison, we all shrugged. May snatched up her phone from the table and dialed our usual pizza place while Quentin grinned and followed the Luidaeg to the kitchen. I clicked off the television and grabbed my own phone to leave a text for Tybalt. I wasn’t expecting him until near dawn anyway; he had a court to run, after all. But it’s just not polite to surprise the love of your life with the Luidaeg sitting at the kitchen table when a warning could easily be had.

_ Auntie ‘Annie’ is here. _

_ No problems, just a visit. _

_ See you in the morning. _

I couldn’t say exactly why I hedged her name, but as I’m reminded with distressing frequency, not everyone has the same level of contact with the Firstborn as I do. Not flaunting that fact just strikes me as a good idea.

“—oh, I know this one! When we were in Portland, Joe’s shop had this game. I didn’t get to play it much, but it seemed fun.” Quentin was bent over something on the table, gesturing excitedly at something.

“You mean Jolgeir?” I came up behind Quentin and peeked around his shoulder at whatever was on the table. The kid had shot up again and I couldn’t quite look over his shoulder any longer. “I thought he sold comic books.”

Quentin rolled his eyes at me. “He does, Toby. But he also sells some games. Mostly ones that relate to the comics he sells, but he also keeps some other popular ones in stock, just to keep his hand in the market, he said. There are dedicated games shops in the area too, but some people like not needing to go to extra places when they already spend a lot of time in Joe’s shop.”

“We’re having a game night!” May’s excitement was obvious as she bounced into the room, the pink tips of her hair seeming all the more appropriate in the context. “Pizza’s on the way, Jazz is sleeping and says to say hello but that she’s not wrecking her sleep schedule for this. I’ll run down to the store and get snacks. C’mon Quentin, you can carry the sodas.”

Quentin shrugged and let May tug him out of the room, the scents of their magic mingling and drifting back into the kitchen as they put up human disguises before leaving.

The Luidaeg was sitting at the table, looking at a card with rules for the game on it, pretending to read it.

“What’s going on, Luidaeg?” I asked again. “This isn’t how this normally goes. I bring bagels or tacos or ice cream and we play chess, you don’t show up here with a game in tow, demand pizza, and conscript my house into game night.”

The Luidaeg gave me a withering look. “Toby, I make my own choices about how I spend my time, and most of the time that means I spend it far away from you people because I want some chance of keeping my sanity from one day to the next. But your household doesn’t usually make me want to turn the world into an equal volume of endangered frogs, and so when I decided I wanted to play a game that didn’t involve someone else’s blood, this is where I came.”

“Okay, Luidaeg. We can play a game that doesn’t involve my blood or that of anyone else.” I smiled. “Would you like some coffee?”

#

20 minutes later, Quentin and May came pounding back through the door, Quentin lugging sodas under each arm, while May tried to navigate the front hall without the ability to see around the mountain of mylar bags of chips and other junk food she was carrying.

“Jeez, May, here I thought I was supposed to be the one that ate like a 5-year-old.”

“You are, but this is a special occasion, so junk food is called for!” I could just see the glimmer of amusement in one eyeliner-rimmed eye around the bags she was carrying. “I’ll make something disgustingly healthy tomorrow to make up for it. Call it penance.”

“Gee, thanks.”

The Luidaeg was sitting all too quietly in her chair at the table, a smirk on her lips that hadn’t budged since May and Quentin walked in. Before I could ask what was so funny, Quentin deposited his burdens on the counter and ducked past May’s now tottering pile of junk food to snatch up the rules card from the table. Oh, let him be in charge of the game if that’s what he wanted, I didn’t care. I opted to help May with her load of goodies before they became so many crumbs on my floor. The cats were a safe bet that they’d sniff the mess and walk away when it didn’t smell like food to them, but I’m not sure what Rose Goblins will do when given a pile of broken potato chips to frolic in, and I didn’t want to know.

“Here, May, let me help with those.” It took the two of us a good 10 minutes to find reasonable bowls for the bags that were being opened, and appropriate locations for everything else. “Why did we need 5 pounds of Twizzlers? And what are ‘gummi frogs’, anyway?”

“Special. Occasion.” May grinned fit to split her face. “And those frogs go great with orange soda, trust me.”

#

Over the next 3 hours we played several rounds of Settlers of Catan, the game Quentin remembered from Jolgeir’s shop in Portland, and some game about facing off against a dread god from the sea that can drive our characters insane if we’re not successful.

The Luidaeg found this whole concept just uproariously funny. There is something deeply disturbing about hearing the Luidaeg cackle with glee at a game of this type.

Somewhere in there pizza arrived and was mostly consumed (save some with seafood toppings for Tybalt, which I kept aside for him so Quentin wouldn’t steal it, since the kid is  _ still growing _ and inclined to eat anything that comes in range of his face) and an impressive dent was made in the junk food mountain.

It was around 2am when the Luidaeg pulled another new game out of her backpack and shoved it across the table to me. “Here, this one next.”

The shrink wrap plastic was still on the outside of the box on this one. “Huh, this one has die-cast pieces, it says.” I looked up at Quentin. “What does that even mean?”

“It means the game pieces are molded metal. It’s mostly used for making models and stuff, like cars and airplanes.” Quentin grabbed the box lid as I dropped it onto the table. “It probably doesn’t have iron in it though; they try to avoid that so the models will last longer.”

“Okay, I overestimated how much I car—” I hissed through my teeth as an unexpected sharpness gouged across the pad of my finger.

“Toby!” The Luidaeg’s voice was sharp as the copper tang of my blood filled the room.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I gestured with the undamaged hand while I clenched the other into a fist to stop myself from a) spraying blood drops all over my kitchen and b) bringing the bloody finger to my lips. “I’m already basically healed, there’s just blood I’ll have to explain now.”

“Yeah, Tybalt’s gonna be pissed. He left you alone for one evening to go deal with kitty politics stuff and you bleed all over the kitchen. Real smooth, Toby.” May’s words were softened to be less mocking by the warmth in her voice as she grabbed for a kitchen towel to try and wipe the blood out of the game box. “Go wash your hands, you don’t know what was on that thing.”

I snorted. “Right. One, like anything on that piece of a toy is going to be a danger to me, and two, like washing my hands now will get anything out of my body that was on the toy. Freakish healing speed, remember?”

“Humor me.” May rolled her eyes and continued wiping up the little blood specks.

This was, of course, the moment when I smelled the scent of pennyroyal and musk rise around me as Tybalt stepped out of the shadow formed by the refrigerator and the wall. Swell.

“October.” Tybalt’s voice was dry as he said my name.

“Hi sweetie, did you get my text?” I was trying for bright cheer, but I don’t think it worked.

“I did. I finished court business a trifle early this eve so that I could enjoy the… visit.” Tybalt stepped over to me and I saw his nostrils flare briefly as he inhaled. “October, why are you bleeding?”

“I’m not!” I flashed a sunny smile and held up my hand to show the unbroken skin. “No wounds here!”

“The scent of your blood is permeating the kitchen. You have cleared healed from your ordeal, whatever it may have been, but you were bleeding.”

“Oh settle down kitty cat, she’s fine.” The Luidaeg had the most tolerantly annoyed expression I’ve ever seen on her face. “She wasn’t paying attention and nicked herself on a game piece. Few blood drops, no especial harm, no actual foul.”

“Ah. I see.” Tybalt looked around the kitchen for the first time, his arched eyebrow twitching at the pile of junk food on the counter before stopping his survey at the pizza box. “Is that seafood pizza?”

“Uh-huh. Saved it for you.” I passed him a pile of napkins as I finished drying my hands after a quick rinse in the sink. “Forgive me?”

“Of course.” Tipping his head quizzically to the side, Tybalt asked, “So, what are we playing?”

  
  
  



End file.
